A.N.: This is something I wrote for a joke I found on Tumblr about how Logan calculates prices in beaver pelts since he's like two hundred years old.
As always, tell me if you like it, hate it, feel meh about it.
Recruitment was always the worst; most people who were good enough for the Avengers didn't trust SHIELD, the ones who did trust SHIELD didn't trust Bruce or Natasha or whoever, and the ones who trusted both parties were already on the team. So Tony suggested they lower they lower their standards. Well, actually he'd said "Listen, Capsicle; we need people and I don't know about you, but I don't see many stable options busting down our door." Of course, it devolved into a shouting match about everything from age range to drug use, which meant that Tony pointed out that out of all of them, Captain Rodgers was both the youngest and the high-quantity drug user. Which lead to a shouting match about the exact nature of Erskine's formula and how it related to steroids and would have continued for several days if Natasha hadn't threatened to demonstrate her study of interrogation techniques on each of them.
Now, sitting at a table in some high-class Manhattan restaurant Tony owned, the Avengers stared at the hairy form of the Wolverine, sometimes known as Logan and he stared right back at them. Unlike the others (except Thor, who always wore Asgardian dress), Logan was dressed in his usual biker getup, earning him a sniff of displeasure and a slightly more condescending attitude from the maître d'.
"So, what do you geeks want? One Eye's gonna miss his bike soon, so make it quick." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar and a lighter.
"Light that and you will regret it," Natasha said sweetly. Logan looked at her a moment, judging weight, distance, and rumor. He shrugged and the lighter disappeared back into the jacket, the cigar stayed clamped between his teeth. He looked expectantly at the group.
Just as Steve opened his mouth to begin the standard offer, Tony burst out with "Didn't you use to wear dog tags?" Every pair of eyes at the table except Logan's, who already knew, and Steve's, who was glaring at Tony, went to Logan's neck where the usual metal chain was conspicuously absent.
"Gave 'em to a friend of mine," he replied gruffly.
Clint smirked. "That's not what I heard."
Logan eyeballed the archer. "You say that again without your girlfriend backing you up, Robin Hood." Natasha's eyebrow raised and Logan tapped his nose. They all noticed Tony attempting to slip Bruce twenty bucks covertly.
"Tony," Steve chastised. "Didn't we have a talk about making bets about interpersonal relationships?"
"I had a hot tip!" He whined. Steve shook his head disapprovingly before turning back to the X-Man.
"Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interru-" He began as he was interrupted yet again, this time by Thor.
"We wish for you to join us, man of metal. Your skills are formidable and your experience invaluable. Worry not about commitment as we have agreed that membership need not be to the exclusion of all other obligations."
Steve, resigned to the fact that no one would let him say his carefully prepared speech about duty and fellowship, wordlessly slid the contract across the table. Logan looked down, idly flicking through the pages until he came to the section about pay. It had a lot of zeroes.
He plonked the paper down so that it faced them and he pointed at the number.
"How much is this in beaver pelts?" For a moment, no one spoke. Then Tony began to laugh hysterically, Steve just looked bewildered, and Thor looked thoughtful.
"Eight thousand, eight hundred, and sixty six pelts with some allowance for the price of fur," he said. Logan nodded while the others stared at the God of Thunder.
"Alright, I'm in."